It was all Tony's fault Gibbs was late for work again. It really was.
You see, Jethro's boy loved cars, the sportier and shinier, the better. Sometimes Gibbs worried about that, about the kid taking some hotrod out for a joyride and wrapping it and himself around a tree. The boy loved trucks, too, old trucks, especially vintage Fords and Chevys. Gibbs wasn't sure where the truck love came from, because the car love genes hadn't even come from him. But then again, neither had Tony.
The three year old was a product of an often neglectful and sometimes abusive father and an absentee, alcoholic mother, and had come into Gibb's arms and heart by way of sending Tony Sr. into the FBI'S witness protection program. He'd not had one iota of guilt about pressing Fornell into it, hell, he'd really wanted to shoot the bastard through the head point blank range and be done with him.
But he wasn't about to be a daddy to a child whose father he'd killed, and settled for letting the man be Fornell's problem. That was almost a year and a half ago, when Tony was only 18 months himself and unaware, or more likely, unconcerned, that his biological father was missing yet again. And in that year and a half, Jethro and Tony had done some serious bonding. Gibbs dragged him everywhere, from the NCIS daycare, to church dinners, to relaxing on the beach. But the most fun for both of them were the vintage car rallies. Tony had taken to them like a fish to water, and Gibbs would bundle his excited boy into his car seat and they'd drive to the nearest car meet, spending half the day strolling amongst the old glories and chatting with the owners, and sometimes even flirting with the women. Gibbs had to admit that Tony was one great chick magnet.
So, over the months, little Anthony became a connoisseur of vintage vehicles and attractive women. Thus leading to Gibb's current late-for-work predicament. No last minute change of messy clothes, no searching for a favorite toy or nuk. No, this latest one was a doozie. Because Jethro's boy loved cars, just like his dad loved them. And his dad had been conned into giving his son an old set of car keys to play with and treasure that Tony had spotted with his eagle eye hanging from a nail in Gibb's basement. Those keys - well, one of them, anyways, was now jammed into the ignition switch of his truck and broken off. In his haste to get them both to work, Gibbs had grabbed the wrong set of keys off the counter, crammed what he thought was his truck key into the ignition, and then in his frustration and fury, broken the damned thing off at the head. He couldn't swear, couldn't even yell. He'd had to give those vices up outside of work once he'd adopted Tony.
So he sat. And fumed. While Tony asked his daddy what was wrong. Finally Gibbs got his act together and sighed loudly.
"Aaaahhh, Bubba. Never shoulda gotten you interested in cars."
